Grief is a Passage, not a Place to Stay.

Just when I was beginning breathe more easily having ticked off a few boxes, along comes an e-mail from His Lordship’s lawyer who is an executor of his estate, asking for every possible bit of information short of his collar size.
After I spend time finding and collating everything I will be rewarded for my diligence with a huge bill. Just as well his Lordship was an organised person...... but I still haven’t found the elusive marriage certificate. Interestingly, not only did the registrar find it very easily online, she also found his parents’ one too.

I had the wettest walk ever this morning into town to hand in some paperwork to the accountants. The roads and pavements were awash with gigantic puddles as stair rods of rain fell from leaden skies. I was soaked to the skin by the time I got home only to be instantly cheered by this inter flora bouquet of flowers left on my mat. My eldest granddaughter, now teaching in Sharjah, in the UAE , sent them to me with a lovely note. It is amazing that it can all happen at the click of the mouse on the other side of the world. The card with them reads:-
Grief never ends, but it changes. It is a passage, not a place to stay. It is not a sign of weakness, but the price of love. Got it in one! Thank you Robynn!